


An Evolution of Trust

by Scrawlers



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Anime)
Genre: Gen, Platonic Soulmates, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-24
Updated: 2017-01-24
Packaged: 2018-09-19 15:23:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9447395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scrawlers/pseuds/Scrawlers
Summary: While attempting to retrieve Houndoominite from a canyon wall on Lysandre's orders, Alan loses his footing and falls. Fortunately, his best friend is always there to save him, even in the most unexpected of ways.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This was written two weeks ago and uploaded to Tumblr, and came to me when I was thinking about situations in which Lizardon could have evolved from charmeleon to charizard. It could have been a standard battle, sure, just like his evolution from charmander to charmeleon; however, with the bond between Alan and Lizardon being what it is, I feel like it had to be something a bit more. Thus, this was born. 
> 
> As a reminder (which is probably not needed due to these notes, but) I headcanon that Alan has nicknamed Lizardon, well, Lizardon, and that he did so from the moment Lizardon hatched, just about. This fic takes place when Alan is fourteen, and as such he has been in Lysandre’s service for about a year at this point.

Had Alan been blessed with a pocket of time in which to study, he would have liked to examine and unravel many of the mysteries of the world that resolutely remained unsolved. Mysteries such as why people steadfastly believed that the bone helmets every cubone wore were absolutely the skulls of their mothers (even when the cubone’s mother was very much alive and seated right next to the baby), or how ditto didn’t go extinct when they didn’t appear able to breed with one another, or why the Houndoominite the Director had sent him to retrieve was wedged in the middle of a canyon wall a few thousand feet off the ground.

Peering down at it from a plateau at the top of the canyon wall, Alan looked to his left and exchanged a frown with Lizardon.

The mountain range was off Route 10, near Geosenge Town, Reflection Cave, and a little village nestled in the woods that Alan felt was better off left alone. He and Lizardon had traveled deep into the canyon, not too far past where a pack of houndour liked to den in the autumn, in order to find the Houndoominite the Director wanted him to retrieve. He hadn’t been particularly thrilled about this assignment—this part of Kalos was an area he usually tried to avoid—but he knew better than to complain or argue with the Director. The quicker he retrieved the Houndoominite, the quicker he could leave. Besides, he had been able to skirt around the village entirely in order to make it into the mountains, and the mountains themselves weren’t bad. It was still too early for the houndour pack to be here—they were probably still back on Route 10, if nothing had disrupted their annual pilgrimage—but he had some pleasant memories in this mountain range that he didn’t mind thinking about. One, anyway.

“I’m going to have to climb down to get it,” he said after a moment, and he looked back down at the mega stone wedged into the canyon wall, glittering in the early afternoon sunlight.

Lizardon had been lying on his stomach beside Alan, looking down at the Houndoominite just as Alan himself was, but at Alan’s words he sat up straighter, and loosed a soft cry of protest.

“There aren’t any other options. There isn’t a path down there, and it isn’t like either one of us can fly. I’ll have to climb.” Alan glanced over in time to see a look of hurt cross Lizardon’s face, and he offered an apologetic smile as he reached over to pat Lizardon’s head. “I’m sorry. Don’t feel bad. It’s not your fault you haven’t evolved, and I don’t mind that you haven’t. You’re fine just the way you are.”

Lizardon pushed his head up under Alan’s palm, an unhappy croon rumbling in his throat. Alan scratched the top of Lizardon’s head gently for a moment longer before he pulled his hand away and looked back down at the mega stone. His stomach fell unpleasantly at the sight.

“It’s my fault for not preparing for this,” he muttered, more to himself than to Lizardon. “I should have brought a rope at the very least.” But the thought that the mega stone would be embedded in the canyon wall without a path down to it hadn’t crossed his mind. In his defense, Alan thought, the mountain range was littered with paths; there was a winding path nearer to the center of the canyon, along which the houndour liked to den each year. There were other paths on either end. Yet this particular part of the canyon had none, and that was where whoever had decided to stash the Houndoominite however many years ago. How they had managed, Alan had no idea; he wondered if this was one of the things the Professor would research if he had the chance—or if perhaps it was one of the things the Professor already knew—but pushed the thought out of his mind a second later.

Wondering that wouldn’t help him get the Houndoominite, and it wasn’t like he could call the Professor and ask. There was no use in thinking about it, and no use in feeling . . . anything beyond the determination he needed to get that mega stone.

“All right,” he said, and he took a deep breath as he swung his legs over the canyon wall. As he turned to face Lizardon he forced another smile, even though the look Lizardon was giving him in return could only be described as ‘deeply afraid.’ “I’m going to go get it. Wait here.”

Lizardon cried out in protest again, reaching one clawed hand out toward Alan, but Alan shook his head.

“No, I mean it,” he said, more firmly this time. “It’s dangerous, and safer for you if you wait here. I’ll climb right back up once I have the mega stone.”

Lizardon whined unhappily, but his arms fell back by his sides, his shoulders slumping, as he nodded. Satisfied that Lizardon would remain on the top of the canyon wall where it was safe, Alan began to slowly make his way down.

Though there was no path that led down to the Houndoominite, there were little footholds and pieces of rock jutting out from the canyon wall. Much farther down, a few of them even looked large enough for Alan to stand on at least briefly, if he needed to reorient himself. With as much care as he could, he lowered himself onto each foothold just long enough so that he could grab onto another piece of rock jutting out from the wall, and after a few minutes passed with no catastrophe befalling him, he smiled.

It really wasn’t as difficult as either he or Lizardon had thought it would be.

Of course, the second those words crossed his mind the universe deemed it time to prove him wrong. He looked down over his shoulder for the next foothold, and frowned at his prospects. There wasn’t one within comfortable range; the best he could hope for was one a little down to his right, but he would have to let go of the canyon wall completely in hopes of reaching it. Then again, it was a bit larger; he might be able to land on it just long enough to grab a hold of the canyon wall again using a piece of rock above it—

Lizardon called out to him in question from above, and Alan looked up and forced another smile.

“It’s okay,” he said. “Everything’s okay.” It was a bit hard to see due to the sun, but Lizardon didn’t look very reassured. The situation being what it was, Alan couldn’t say he blamed him.

He looked back down at the nearest foothold. He would have to let go of the canyon wall entirely, and if his footing slipped for even a _moment_ when he hit that foothold, he was likely looking at a tumble down to the bottom of the canyon. If nothing else, at least death from this great of a fall would probably be instantaneous. He wouldn’t suffer excruciating pain, and he couldn’t imagine it would leave him alive but paralyzed. There was at least that thin, almost invisible silver lining to the situation if he happened to fail. And Lizardon would be all right, he was sure. Mountainous regions were good habitats for charmeleon. And he was smart; he could find a way back to the lab if he needed to. He would know to go back to the Professor instead of the Director.

But that was only if Alan fell, and he didn’t have any intention of falling. Not on purpose, anyway. He had a job to do, and he couldn’t do that if he was dead at the bottom of the canyon. He took a deep breath, gave the handhold he was currently using one final squeeze (and it was a bit hard, due to how his palms and fingers were slicked with sweat), before he simultaneously released the portion of the wall he was holding and stepped off his current foothold to drop toward the lower one.

Lizardon cried out in alarm, but Alan didn’t spare a glance up as his foot hit the foothold he needed. But it was too—he hit it too fast—

The angle at which he hit it, combined with his weight and the force of his fall, caused him to careen to the right; he grasped at any portion of the canyon wall he could get his fingers on in a panic, but somehow the entire wall felt smooth— _merciless_ —beneath his touch. It wasn’t until he was nearly horizontal against the wall that he managed to secure his fingers on a sliver of rock jutting out from it, but that sliver was too far away from the foothold; he dangled thousands of feet above the canyon floor, Lizardon crying out again from the plateau up above.

“I—I’m all right!” Alan called, but even as he swallowed to try and force more strength into his voice, his voice cracked, as brittle as the rock around him. He dug his nails into the little handhold he had, and his heart throbbed painfully in his chest as he felt pieces of dirt and stone come loose beneath his fingertips. “Just . . . just hold . . .”

He wasn’t sure whether he was speaking to Lizardon or the little sliver of rock that was the only barrier between him and death, but he also knew it didn’t matter as he cast his eyes along the wall for something else to grab onto. He could try getting onto the failed foothold again, but he didn’t think he could get good enough balance on it for long enough to find a proper handhold. If anything, he would just fall again, and this time there was no guarantee that he—

His fingers slipped, and as he tightened his grip with his other hand to make sure he wouldn’t fall, the weak little piece of rock crumbled beneath them.

Alan was too taken by the sudden drop to scream, but Lizardon wasn’t. His scream echoed against the canyon walls and brought Alan’s attention _up_ instead of back at the wall, and what he saw when he turned his eyes skyward was enough to rip a scream of his own from his throat.

“ _LIZARDON_!”

Lizardon had jumped. He had jumped and was _diving_ , his claws outstretched toward Alan even though there was nothing, _nothing_ he could do, because as a charmeleon he didn’t have wings, couldn’t fly, and they were both going to die, both going to die because Alan was careless, unprepared, _stupid_ —

Alan scrambled at his pocket, fumbling for Lizardon’s pokéball, because maybe, maybe if he recalled him then the fall wouldn’t kill him, maybe _he_ would live—

A brilliant light suddenly flashed through the canyon.

Despite his rapid descent toward the bottom, time seemed to freeze. Alan watched, too transfixed to be afraid, as Lizardon’s form shifted and changed—as great wings sprouted from his back and his scales washed from deep red to vivid orange. Two horns crested Lizardon’s head now instead of just the one, and the flame that tipped his tail blazed more furiously than ever.

Charizard.

He had evolved into _charizard_.

Realistically, time had never frozen, but the second that realization snapped in Alan’s mind, time felt like it snapped back into place as well. Lizardon gave three strong beats of his new wings to propel him faster toward the bottom, his weight carrying him the rest of the way. Feeling dazed, Alan lifted both of his arms up as Lizardon reached down. It only took another second for Lizardon to reach him. Lizardon’s arms snapped around Alan in a tight embrace, holding him close as Alan wrapped his own arms around Lizardon’s neck, and in another few powerful beats of his wings Lizardon pushed his flight trajectory horizontal and then vertical, carrying them both up to the top of the canyon. He didn’t release Alan until he had landed safely back on the plateau, yet when he did and Alan’s feet hit solid ground, Alan still felt himself shaking all over.

“I can’t . . . believe it,” he said, and he spun back around to face Lizardon—Lizardon, whom he now had to look _up_ at in order to meet his eyes, whose tail was now so large it looked like it could easily uproot a tree (at least partially) if he gave it a good smack. “You . . . you evolved. You _evolved_ , Lizardon, you evolved . . .” He blinked, and if he had felt breathless before, it was nothing compared to how he felt now as a new realization ignited in his mind. “. . . to save me?”

Lizardon crooned an affirmation, and bumped his snout against Alan’s forehead in a quick kiss. Alan huffed a laugh, dizzy less from the sudden fall and more from the exhilaration of everything that had just happened, and placed both of his hands on either side of Lizardon’s head so that he could tug him down to eye level.

“Thank you,” he said. “You’re the best partner I could ever ask for, you know that?”

Lizardon snorted as if to say _‘like you have to ask_ ,’ and his hot breath ruffled Alan’s hair. Alan laughed again, and that brought a reptilian smile to Lizardon’s own lips as he bumped his head into the crook of Alan’s neck in an unspoken request for a better hug.


End file.
